


once we were

by teknopathetic



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Tranquility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 09:15:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12429681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teknopathetic/pseuds/teknopathetic
Summary: i had this idea where my newly tranquil warden entered the crossroads in trespasser with hissrad... this is my first post, just getting the hang of the site





	once we were

**Author's Note:**

> for reference: aisling is an orlesian grey warden who joined the inquisition as one of the chargers. she was made tranquil post-game everything i write for her is so self indulgent   
> i write most works on my phone, maybe i’ll format them on my laptop eventually

He gave her a book and her journal, sat her down in the bar, and asked Sera to watch her while he spoke with Leliana.  
 _“I am not helpless.”_ Her voice, but not really. Her mouth formed words but they were not her own.  
Bull pressed his lips to her forehead, strong hands lingering, tangled in her now-short hair.  
She didn't mind. How could she? It was for him, not her.  
Sera tried not to think about it, though the brand on her forehead made it hard not to. She scribbled in her own journal in silence and waited for any questions the other had.  
She never actually had any. The questions she had, Sera could not answer, so she did not ask. She simply continued with her task.  
The Iron Bull and Sera arrived almost at the same time, they were both in Orlais, while other friends to the Inquisition were in Ferelden, The Free Marches, or even Tevinter.   
Bull always brought Aisling with him.  
He couldn't stand seeing her in Par Vollen. She should have loved it. Instead she was left in the shadow of her former self. She didn't care when the priestesses told her about the Kossith. She never cared.  
She sat up straight now, reading the book she was given and hardly taking notes. She remembered most things, she didn't need to write them down. All she had now was the things she learned, like this. It was easy to keep a straight mind.  
It was an uneventful day. When the sun set, Bull took her back to their room, dressed her for bed and gave her water to drink if she'd wake in the middle of the night.  
She didn't cuddle, but she slept in his bed, he didn't know if it made it easier or more difficult. Didn't really care.  
You could tell she wasn't dreaming. Her eyes never moved, and she never made a sound. Didn't fidget.  
They had sex once. Well, they fucked.  
She'd made note of his arousal, asked if there was anything she could do to relieve it, or if he wanted her to sit outside a while.   
He kissed her, and her body moved only out of habit, it remembered him, though she didn't. She had no drive, no lust. He fucked her mouth and she didn't make any noise, aside from involuntary gagging. Her brow never furrowed.   
She said she'd like some water to wash the taste out, as it was unpleasant.  
They didn't do that again.

He left her in the room the next few days, assigning a servant to check on her every hour until he returned each night.  
She was sitting by the fireplace, it was burning low, she didn't know she should add another log. Bull usually did it.  
She'd told the servant she was cold, and they scrambled to light the fire.  
He put his hand on her head, feeling her soft hair, before leaning to put another cut log into the dying heat.  
“What did you do today, Kadan?” He asked, he did every day, whether he was with her or not. She had often made verbal note of it, though now she stopped. She realised it was for his comfort, and they likely wouldn't speak otherwise.  
“Today I studied the book you gave me on Tranquility. There was not much substance, most of the writing is there for political reasons. I rested around noon and when I woke there was food waiting. It was cold.”  
He didn't respond. He just went to the vanity and washed his face, the back of his head and neck, and under his arms with a cloth soaked from the water basin.   
“What did you do today, The Iron Bull?”  
“Went through some elven mirror. Eluvian. Some place the Boss calls the crossroads, it's all broken up and magic-y. Viddasaala asked me to stay here a while longer. See what they do.”  
She knew the words, but not his meaning to them. He told her things he shouldn't, but he didn't really care. He was an honest person. She wasn't a threat, she couldn't be, she's physically and mentally incapable. She wouldn't tell anyone, either. No way it'd come up.  
“Crossroads?” This one stumped her, however, she couldn't understand what kind of place this could be. She didn't remember much of the Fade. Perhaps it was like that. She wondered if she could go there. The Crossroads.  
He looked at her. Every time she asked a question, it was like a bit of her peeked through, just for a second.  
“Yeah. Probably got some elf name we don't know. It's supposed to be like the Fade. The... Raw, Fade.” He spoke with a growl. “Not dreamland. It's brighter there, though.”  
She almost hesitated to ask. There was no reason, other than lack of understanding. “Do you have time to take me there? I still do not understand.”  
Bull draped the damp cloth back over the basin and was quiet a long time.  
“The Iron Bull?”   
“Yeah.” Quietly, first, then he repeated himself, turning back to her. “Yeah. We'll see if we can go tomorrow.” He paused. “Come here. I'll get you ready for bed.”  
“I can dress myself.” Never condescending, simply a fact.  
“Let me.”

Bull buttoned her coat up to her collar, not daring to look into her vacant green eyes. She would always watch him, waiting for his word, or while he was like this, dressing her for their expedition.  
It was early in the morning, before The Inquisitor would call for him, or any other of their companions, thus, the night's cold still hung in the air. There was a breeze in the Crossroads.  
Aisling yawned, closing her eyes and covering her mouth. Little things, like that, stayed the same. She didn't know. Bull did.  
“We can wait if you're tired.” He said, smoothing out the fabric of her coat.  
“No, this is a personal inquiry, not anything of note. I've had sufficient rest for this adventure.”  
Adventure. An odd choice of word, as they weren't going far. The little things.  
He entered the mirror first, disappearing in the soft blue light, she saw his distorted image on the other side.  
Lifting her hand to hover against the magic, she first dipped her fingertips inside, then taking a deep breath before closing her eyes and stepping through.  
Bull was right, there was a breeze, though it was more of a draft, cold from altitude.  
He heard her soft, but deep gasp, soon after her footsteps on his side of the Eluvian.  
“Bull, this— This is incredible. You said it was like the Fade; I did not expect to see so many colours...”  
Colour? It was dull, and grey. He turned to her and his chest sunk when he saw the sparkle in her eyes.   
“You're staring.” Her voice sounded alive, and real. He felt a mass in his throat.  
She walked passed him, unbuttoning the two top buttons of her coat as she looked around.  
“Is this— Stairs! Bull, look, they're hidden. What kind of magic is this?” She stooped to her knees, waving her hand above the stone stairs invisible to the eye. “Magnificent.”  
 _“Aisling.”_  
“What?”  
The half-elf whirled back up to her feet, blinking as she did. She raised her hand and felt her hair. She didn't feel her braid smack against her back. There was no braid.  
“What- What happened to my hair?” She was distressed, a weary sigh as she ran her fingers through her hairline. Her fingertips grazed her forehead and her heart felt like it had dropped to her feet.  
A burn, brand, a bursting sun etched into her skin.  
Bull spoke her name again, hand reaching out for her. She scurried passed him again and looking into the magic mirror, pushing her hair back.  
The Qunari watched as she dropped to her knees, hunched over and chest heaving as she cried out.  
All she could do was scream, as everything came back to her, the past two years of her life, feeling nothing, being nothing.   
He couldn't say anything, if he tried no words would come out. The horned man lowered himself to his knee beside her, pulling her into his arms.  
Clawing at his skin, she sobbed into his chest, snot and tears sticking to him.  
He held her tight as tears streamed down his cheeks, all he could do was hold her and stare into the dark sky of the Crossroads.


End file.
